


The Dragon, The Girl, and The Enigmatic Sociopath

by HiddlesBatchedSherlollian



Category: Hobbitlock - Fandom, Sherlock - Fandom, The Hobbit
Genre: Death, Destruction, Dragons, eating of people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-14 09:00:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1260625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddlesBatchedSherlollian/pseuds/HiddlesBatchedSherlollian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was promted this lovely idea (though I have only seen The Hobbit part I) and yeah. <br/>Smaug and Molly become friends when very young and all is well until Molly goes to Uni and meets the tall, dark and handsome Sherlock Holmes.<br/>All of them are a little OOC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Wind blew leaves around the little forest lane as the mother and daughter clambered through a small kissing-gate, the little girl turning her pink flushed cheek to her mother to receive her kiss payment.

Giggling, she ran on ahead as the wind blew her messy pigtails across her face, kicking up the leaves as she went. Her mother hurried after her, looking around the autumnal forest furtively, as though she was afraid that someone or something was going to leap out at them.

"Molly, please be a little more quiet! You don't want to disturb the dwarves, do you?" The little girl paused and shook her head solemnly, stopping where she was to wait for her mother. Clasping the girl's hand safely in hers, they carried on, moving hurriedly as the wind seemed to become even more ferocious. Every once in a while her mother would look up at the sky nervously, despite being unable to see anything beyond the swaying tree tops. The little girl began to sing to herself quietly, one of her favourite songs from a Disney song until her mother sharply ordered her to stop.

She began to cry, loudly and without pause for breath or so it seemed, as all natural background noise ceased in the forest. Her mother picked her up and ran down the path, uncaring about the brambles catching on her stockings and ripping into her skin.

A terrible roar split the air as the trees seemed to part behind them. Not pausing to stop, her mother threw a glance back over her shoulder in time to see a colossal reptilian paw come down on top of them, crushing them both beneath its weight.

She felt one of the long claws crushing against her chest, breaking her ribs beneath the sheer weight of it. Using the last of her breath, she ordered Molly to be silent, as the claws closed around them, lifting them both into the air as the dragon flew back to its cave.

The darkness of the cave added to the infant's fear as she clutched her mother's warm body close to her, making hardly a sound. Falling roughly to the ground, she peeked out as the dragon's deep voice rumbled threateningly through the cave.

"Sweet human, tasty human, make my child grow strong…."

Shuffling back into the shadows, she watched as the dragon lifted her mother over to where a small - by dragon standards – nest lay by a fire. A small, beautiful, red-gold reptilian head lifted into the air as the body came near, sniffing enthusiastically. The adult dragon, once she looked at it, seemed thin and frail, as though it hadn't eaten in years. It looked like one small hit to the head would kill it.

"Smaug, my child, I'll be back. I promise to not be long…"

The dragon shuffled back out, unravelling her bat like wings as she took off out of the mouth of the cave and sailing into the air gracefully. Molly edged out from behind the rock, hoping to escape the way she came.

Coming to the mouth of the cave, she stopped dead, eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. A blanket of cloud covered the valley, hiding all landmarks from sight. It seemed to shift and move, snake like, as she watched, faint wisps detaching and coiling back into the mass, the faint orange of the setting sun bathing the clouds in fire. The drop was sheer, no way to work out the height of the cave on the mountain, though the way the clouds coiled made it seem as though she could simply step out and be perfectly safe on the soft bed of molten gold. She huddled into herself, the cool wind tearing through her thin dress, stumbling backwards into the relative warmth of the cavern.

She heard a soft tearing sound and looked to see the baby dragon – Smaug – nosing around in her mother's stomach, blood marring his beautiful golden snout. Tears filled her eyes as she gasped out a strangled Mama before collapsing onto the unforgiving floor sobbing.

"Ma..Ma?" The young dragon stopped what he was doing, his bright yellow eyes glowing in the light of the setting sun and the glow of the fire as they lit upon the small thing screaming on the floor. He rose unsteadily on shaking legs, wobbling over to her, a piece of flesh held as an offering in his mouth. Dropping it beside her, he nudged her with his nose, smearing blood across the girl's dress.

She froze when his snout made contact, eye to eye before emitting an ear splitting scream and scrambling away quickly.

"Don't… Be…. Sssssssscared. I will not… hurt… you. My… Mama… Will. You musssst Hide." His voice hissed out, echoing around the cavern, the light from the fire sending slivers of light reflecting off otherwise hidden mounds of gold. Eyes fixed on the young dragon, she shuffled over to the fire and hunched over it, almost burning herself in her quest for warmth.

Her mother's body lay less than a foot away from her.

Smaug snuffled over to her, seeking the warmth and companionship, even though she was so very small and weak.

Dragons cannot like humans. Dragons cannot befriend any creature.

But she is so small. She cannot hurt me.

Her quiet sobs grew louder, echoing plaintively around the large cavern as the smell of blood intensified in the rising warmth. The acrid smell of death and smoke mingled in the stale night time air, the stench of decay from other unlucky, hapless meals littered in far flung corners out of sight.

Hours passed, Molly's exhausted form curled into the baby dragon's warm side as he continued to eat her mother, the dark sky slowly lightening to a pale pink, gold streaks swept across the clouds.

His mother had not returned by the next day either. Her mother had been completely eaten, and she was afraid he would eat her next. Her daddy was dead, her mama gone, no one would miss her. Smaug would live.

She resigned herself to death.


	2. A Mysterious Love of Learning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly's life from the death of her mother until... School.

She lost track of time over the next eight years. Of only three things was she absolutely certain; she was a good hunter and gatherer, Smaug was a better hunter than her, and their mothers were never going to come back.

The first few months had passed pleasantly, though she had been constantly aware of the dragon's nature and had always sought to find meat for him. After watching him eat the last bits of her mother, she had refused to eat meat. She had spent the first months foraging, using what little her mother had managed to tell her about edible fruits, nuts, fungi and roots, and Smaug had quite happily torched any poor squirrel who had come looking for shelter in their cave.

Then winter had come, bringing new hardships. She had resorted to stealing from nearby villages, quite proficiently, until she had been caught by a blacksmith who had threatened to skin her the next time he saw her. She hadn't been able to return to Smaug, so he had... Panicked. Catching her scent, he had rampaged through the village searching for her, setting houses alight until he had found her, huddled in a freezing cell in the village gaol, and had brought her back to the cave.

Word had spread quickly, lynching parties had been sent off, each returning a little singed but all in one piece.

And then the snowstorms hit.

The entire countryside had been coated in thick, pure white snow, the roads in and out blocked and people began to die from the cold, that seemed to seep into their very bones. All except for the little girl with bare feet who ran around the village at night, taking food where available and leaving blankets in her wake.

Smaug came with her a few times at first, tentatively sticking his vast nose out to test the air, then gambolling after her like an oversized Labrador, melting the snow with his firey breath and red hot scales. The villagers had watched in fearful awe as they watched her command the colossal beast with ease, melting the snow for them twice a day.

They began to leave the little girl food in return, and then books and paper and pens, for they heard her sometimes, on wet days, sunny days, on days where the hills were hushed with the peaceful silence that accompanies fresh snow and the only sound was the girl's gentle voice telling the beast fantastical stories about far off places, mountains of gold and treasures untold, all awaiting them just around the mountain top.

She taught herself to read, and devoured the books left to her, on maths, English, poetry, even physics and chemistry. She loved the science text books, and would dissect and animals Smaug caught and hadn't gotten around to flaming yet, observing their intestines and little hearts, taking their brains and slicing into them, fascinated at their workings.

Simple things got past her though, like addition and subtraction, writing proved to be much harder than reading the words, and she absolutely hated the smell of blood.

She had gone home a few times, to take what little food was left and clothes of hers and her mothers', and had given away her father's clothes long ago. Ever practical, she had realised that she was going to grow; having watched how very swiftly Smaug did, she knew it would happen to her too. She had noticed how different she was to motherly figures, so rationalised that she too would change to have hips, and breasts, so had saved some of her mother's slimmer tops, trousers and skirts. She didn't know when she'd need them, but she knew she would.

As the years went on, her hair had grown long and wild, clothes tattered and worn, but always clean, thanks to her mother's voice in her head constantly ordering her to pull her socks up and straighten her skirt, and make sure they were clean.

The most remarkable things were, however, her eyes, which seemed to glow like Smaug's, though darker and lit from within as though a fire burned at the bottom of a long, dark tunnel and the light was only just surfacing.

She liked her look.

Wild and untamed, the children of the villages had been warned away from her, but when she was reading aloud, leaning back against the scales of the dragon that should have burned her beyond recognition, she seemed harmless and peaceful and the children wanted to play with her.

It was the dragon that put them off. Fairy tale dragons are all well and good, but having one that had created such damage in so little time, in living memory no less, they head learnt to respect the beast, treating him with reverence and always searched for the strange little girl with glowing eyes, muddy feet and soft, strangely carrying voice.

She had so much power over the dragon, yet she didn't understand it. He was her only friend, even if he had eaten her mama. If anything, that had made them closer. She knew what he could do, and also what he wouldn't. All she had to do was bring home cabbage every night for a week and he'd be as gentle as a kitten and as apologetic as a spaniel.

However, all good things had come to an end and their combined attempts hadn't dissuaded the local schools from trying to make her attend. Smaug had burned one of them down several times, yet still they persisted. The other had had Molly come in and vandalise the whole place using paint made from berries, mashed bone and animal blood, which hadn't deterred them either.

They had sent groups of children her age to the cave, which had just made them scared of her. They had sent the working men, which had also made them scared of her.

None of them would say what she had done.

But the villagers stopped leaving her books, locking the library doors, sealing every house with access to books as yet unread by the fiery nymph.

Smaug hadn't cared. All he wanted was food and stories and he didn't care if she told him the same ones over and over.

Then they stopped giving out food.

Smaug persuaded her to try school, at least for a day.

So began a new chapter in the hellion's life, solitary still, but choosing to be alone, staying silent and deliberately stuttering and appearing shy and revealing her inner dragon whenever some injustice arose.

Clever and unassuming, the teachers adored her, never calling upon her unless she volunteered the information, which was frequently of a far higher standard than was expected. And still the little issues, such as spelling and pronunciation, continued to plague her. No matter how she tried, she couldn't seem to grasp the "I before E" rule, arguing vehemently that only around forty English words used the silly rule, and there were numerous words that had the "E" before the "I".

She was an enigma, wrapped in a mystery, crammed into an undersized over bright youngster. They didn't know whether to send her to the city to learn how to survive there, and hopefully get the attention she needed, or stay and be pushed up several years, so that she could learn with students closer to her intelligence, but suffer from lack of appropriate social interaction. Either way, she was bound to suffer.

Besides, going to the city was out of the question. She refused to leave the dragon, and all of the villages in a twenty mile radius couldn't bear to think about the consequences of her leaving the monstrous beast alone for weeks at a time.

It had been bad enough with it's mother. He was growing to be a size at least twice as big as she had been, and thrice as volatile. Without the the gently authoritative girl there to keep him in line, they'd all be dead within a week.

School changed Molly. She was still adventurous, with an almost comical desire to learn and explore, but she had learn to control it and keep it hidden. A master of situations, she had seen how the older children ridiculed the younger, more academic students and had thus learn to keep to herself, but did not let them bully her. She could hold her own in both a verbal spar and a physical one, at least once a month having to be hauled, kicking and screaming, off an unwitting victim, usually some child whom she had observed bullying another child regularly.

Strangely enough, she was never bullied.

However, she could see that Smaug was becoming both restless and more agitated, listening to her less and less as his strength grew. She had had to speak to him sharply on occasion, and he had threatened her physically, reminding her of his power and what his kind do to humans who overstep their boundaries.

She always reminded him of who had kept him alive during those months when he was too young and weak to hunt alone.

Yet despite what would appear to be rifts forming between the two, they would defend each other to the death if needs be. Especially Smaug. On numerous occasions he had left the cave purely to defend his odd little human, who had saved him despite his barbaric and irritable nature.

Even he could see she was unique among humans, who so often killed or feared the unknown, and hated his kind on sight. She had been afraid, yes, but for a very good reason. But she had gotten past that swiftly, had trusted him with her life countless times and had seen past his bravado into the scared baby he had been so many years ago.

That was why they would always be friends, family, even.

They were all they had left in the world.

He would kill before he let anyone take her away from him.


	3. Unexpected Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uhm Molly and Sherlock accidentally met BUT HE IS NOT ABOUT TO RAPE HER JUST FYI

"It's official. I hate school!"

Molly lay on the cold floor of the cave, the cool stone seeping pleasantly through her thin, yellow summer dress, that had long ago belonged to her mother. The sun streamed in through the mouth of the cave, illuminating the various piles of money and assorted nick-knacks that littered the space.

Tiny dust motes swirled in ever changing circles around her head, shining momentarily in the sunlight before winking out of sight again.

Her face was scrunched into a petulant pout as she frowned in Smaug's general direction.

"Are you even listening to me? Gods, Smaug, you're a terrible listener. If I go hunting tonight, find us a nice boar, will you listen to me?"

She pushed herself up onto her elbows, long brown hair slipping gently over her shoulders, tugged softly by the wind and gravity as she turned to face him.

He was asleep.

"Stupid bloody dragon, ignoring me.." She stood up, dusting down her dress and stretching languorously, cat-like in the sunlight. Making her way to the mouth of the cave, she pulled a worn handbag out from behind a rock, noiselessly scooped some gold into it and scampered down the mountain towards the nearer of the two nearby villages.

"All they do is ask me silly questions, and even then they don't tell me why I'm wrong, if I am. Is it so bad to want to be helped instead of being constantly ridiculed and ostracised for being me? Gods above, I cannot TAKE IT ANYMORE!" She huffed out a melodramatic sigh, throwing her hands up in the air and letting them flop down beside her.

"And Jim has been bothering me again, I just want that big bag of scales and fire to sort him out for once and for all. Is it really that much to ask...?"

She sighed again, long and loud.

It had been building inside her for a while, growing in pressure over the weeks since the Easter break.

She hated Easter.

And Christmas.

Religion in general baffled her. A mighty God that created every creature and then forsook them, banished to live in a world full of boring lessons and dragons that didn't listen to her, and made children live in caves without their mothers? It just didn't seem right.

And they said some saint or other had killed the last dragon centuries ago.

So she didn't believe a word written in that book old book of half truths and assumptions.

"...And they say I make up ridiculous stories! A dragon stealing a mountain from a load of dwarves is much more likely than a bush that didn't burn even though it was clearly on fire, or parting the seas, or making a river run blood. At least they know dragons exist!"

She continued grumbling until she came to a stop at the very bottom of the mountain, enveloped by a thick, almost tangible mist.

"H-Hello?" She called out nervously, though she knew that all she had to do was scream and Smaug would come to her rescue.

Stupid dragon.

"Please, is anyone there? I seem to be lost in the fog, and I can't find my way home..."

She glanced around her, sensing figures in the blinding mist that was so bright, yet so very thick that nothing could be seen clearly.

Reaching almost noiselessly into the bag, she pulled out a wicked looking blade and grasped it firmly in her right had, whilst curling in on herself to ensure she appeared as small and weak as possible.

The element of surprise was on her side, after all.

"P-please? Help me, I'm lost!"

There!

Movement to her left. Turning her head imperceptibly, she observed the bulky figure of a large man shift through the swirling fog towards her.

To her right, three more circled closer.

Five, in total, then.

Oh yes, there was the fifth, that had been staying out of reach in front of her. They'd been preying on the area for weeks now, and this was the first time she had come face to face with them. She smiled slightly.

A gang of sorts, roaming the countryside in search of the rich or the greedy, they had finally heard tales of the mountain, which she herself had cultivated, stuffed full of riches beyond belief and anyone's for the taking. Quite the treasure trove, or so she had put about.

She had deliberately left out the part about the Fire drake.

"So, little girly. Out all alone on a horrid day like this? You'll get your pretty dress all wet..."

Lascivious hands ran over her damp form, tugging at her skirt.

She squeaked indignantly, hoping it sounded enough like fear to pass muster. Really...

"You must be.. terrified, my pretty.." The man who had been to her left hissed in her ear as he passed, circling around her.

She reached back into her bag slowly, drawing out a longer knife and moving into a vaguely defensive stance, whilst still maintaining her cowed posture.

"Little girly, what's your name?"

She swallowed, audibly.

"Rosabelle..."

"What was that, girly?"

His grimy hand tilted her face up towards his, the fog obscuring his features from her.

She sucked in a breath through her mouth, almost gagging over the smell of unwashed man, mixed with the unmistakable scent of death that clung to the men like the fog that surrounded them.

"Rosabelle, sir. Please, do you know the best way out of here?" She had read in a book about the old European names, and she had been fascinated by the German meanings for many of the seemingly ordinary and common ones found in the area. Rosabelle, she decided, seemed harmless, but as it meant noted protector, it should give them enough of a warning.

Well, she knew they were going to underestimate her anyway.

The man in front of her sidled forwards, used, as she was, to the fog and the sense of disorientation it gave most travellers caught within its wet tendrils.

A finger of unease slithered down her spine as she took in the man's stature and build. He seemed to be quite young...

A rich boy turned highway robber?

How curious.

She strained her ears for any sound of her dragon, hoping against hope the fog hadn't removed all traces of her whereabouts.

Silence reigned in the group.

"Most of the time they're pleading by now, kid. Think we should let 'er go?" One of the men that had been at her right materialised in front of her, facing their leader.

"No, she might be useful. Besides, I'm bored."

The leader's voice cut through her, freezing her in place. She felt like he was talking to her, reaching deep within her soul to pull at parts of it her mother had warned her of.

She blushed slightly and tensed, sure they would see her revelation on her face.

Glancing up, she saw the leader and the man deep in conversation.

"I'm, uh, sorry. I'm pretty sure I can get home..."

"Rosabelle, was it? Well, I think we need a chat." She froze momentarily, eyes locked on his shape, heart beating erratically. This had suddenly stopped being fun.

"No, really, my uh, dragon will be missing me..." She attempted to dodge them, aiming for the weakest point in their circle. A large meaty arm stopped her passage.

She panicked, swinging the knife still clutched in her right hand in a perfect arc, slicing into the man's arm, the hot red drops splattering over her face and torso.

That's my last nice dress ruined. Bloody hell.

His shocked yell alerted the rest of them to her weapons, as she ducked and sprinted up the hill, shouting for Smaug as she went.

She could hear them behind her, moving with surprising speed and agility as she wove around the trees she had spent her entire life mapping unconsciously.

A hand barely avoided grasping the hem of her dress, Molly letting out a squeak of surprise as her balance almost failed her momentarily.

Shouting echoed around the mountain, fro either side of her. It sounded like they were trying to shepherd her into one area, their voices getting nearer as she began to call for Smaug again.

She hit a large, unexpected tree root and went flailing, knees hitting the ground hard and her wrist letting out a frighteningly loud snap.

"Argh. Ugh. No.." She gritted her teeth determinedly, one knife still grasped firmly in the unbroken hand. Their faces emerged from the mist as it began to lift, as though being blown from above.

She smiled unexpectedly, a sly, cunning smile surprisingly fitting with her bedraggled, blood spattered appearance.

She didn't recognise any of them, from what she could see; most of their faces were obscured by large beards, and the leader had his back to her.

He didn't look old though.

Maybe only a little older than her.

Huh.

They looked around them in confusion as the wind continued to pick up and Molly began to laugh outright at their expressions and in relief.

"Smaug, you great lump, took you long enough!"

She jumped slightly, just enough for the large reptilian claw that swept down from the overhanging clouds to grasp her firmly, peeking out over Smaug's paw to smirk at them.

She mad eye contact with the leader.

Excited blue-green eyes met her fierce brown ones, committing her to memory as she savoured this victory over a tall fourteen year old boy.

Their laughter rang out over the valley, hers elated and pain filled, his ecstatic and happy, that something so improbable fell quite literally from the sky, relieving him of his usual chronic boredom.

She never could quite remove his inquisitive eyes from her memory.


End file.
